Stand My Ground
by silent-five
Summary: After witnessing the brutal murder of her parents, Rachel is sent to live with the Puckerman family in Lima. With fear and horrific memories as her constant companions, will she be able to move on with her life?
1. PROLOGUE

**_STAND MY GROUND BY JESSA_**

**RATING/GENRE:** M/Hurt/Comfort & Suspense

**FANDOM/CHARACTERS:** Glee/Finchel, Puckleberry friendship

**SUMMARY: **After witnessing the brutal murder of her parents, Rachel is sent to live with the Puckerman family in Lima. With fear and horrific memories as her constant companions, will she be able to move on with her life?

**DISCLAIMER:** Rachel, Finn and all things Glee are the property of Fox. Sadly I do not own them. If I did, Rachel and Finn would make-out ALL THE DAMN TIME. This is also a _very_ loose take on the movie _Prom Night_... minus the Prom. The title and lyrics at the beginning are from _"Stand My Ground"_ by Within Temptation.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I apologize if this story idea seems lame but I couldn't help myself. It was begging to be written! This is my first multi-chaptered attempt at writing in a long time so you should also know that sometimes takes me a while to update. My muse is, at times, not all-together cooperative. Hope you enjoy!

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><p><em><strong>Stand my ground, I won't give in<strong>  
><strong>No more denying, I've got to face it<strong>  
><strong>Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside<strong>  
><strong>If I don't make it, someone else will<strong>  
><strong>Stand my ground<strong>  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Nothing seemed out of sorts when Rachel Berry came home from a long evening of volunteering at the local animal shelter. She unlocked the door and laid her keys in the dish on the table near the door, just as she always did. The soft sounds of Frank Sinatra – her daddy's favorite – filtered through the house, probably from the stereo in the kitchen. He loved to listen to music while he cooked dinner. Her stomach rumbled quietly as she wondered what he was making.<em>

_"Daddy? Dad? I'm home!" she called cheerily._

_The lack of a response was her first clue that something wasn't quite right._

_Her brows knitted together as she made her way towards the kitchen at the back of the house. As expected, it was the little stereo on the counter that was the source of the music permeating the air, but she was discouraged to find the kitchen empty. Supplies for dinner were laid out, waiting to be transformed into something edible. Someone had even started chopping up carrots and green onions, which now lay abandoned on the cutting board._

_Rachel's heart began to pick up pace. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut and climbed the stairs with perhaps more care than usual. Her steps were hesitant, the subconscious fear of what she might find waiting for her upstairs forcing her to take her time._

_Her bedroom door was open, soft light flooding out into the otherwise dark hallway. All the other doors were closed, which was unusual to say the least. As she drew closer to her room, something caught her eye. Peeking out from behind her bed was someone's leg, as if there were a person lying on her floor. _

_Then she noticed an angry red smear marring her plush carpet. _

_Blood.  
><em>

_Rachel froze in the middle of the hall, terror sweeping through her body and causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. ___Her head snapped up when she heard the sound of breaking glass, like a vase falling off a table, followed immediately by the dull thud of flesh hitting flesh.__

_"She's not here!" she heard her daddy yell. "I swear!"_

_She had to clap a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out._

_"Where **is** she then?" came another voice; this one gruff, desperate and familiar._

_The sound of it made her blood run cold._

_The commotion was coming from behind the door to her fathers' study and she could hear heavy footsteps coming towards the door. Instinctively, she searched for a place to hide herself, having only split seconds to do so._

_She threw herself into the linen closet on her right, managing to shut the door in the nick of time. She sunk to the floor, pulling her legs tightly against her chest as she tried her hardest not to make a sound. __Tears flowed down her face, hot and unrelenting, but she kept her sobs trapped safely in her throat.___

_"You shouldn't have tried to keep us apart! Nothing, **nothing** can keep her from me! We're meant to be together…"_

_Rachel shivered and bit back a whimper. He was crazy, absolutely mental. _

_"You won't be coming within a hundred feet of her daughter ever again, you lunatic," she heard her daddy say, his voice filled with conviction in spite of his situation. She ached with the desire to leave her hiding spot and do something, **anything**, to help him but she knew he wouldn't want her to put herself in danger. _

_There was a short laugh, one that held no mirth whatsoever, and then the wet sound of a blade slicing through skin again and again and again. Something heavy fell against the door of the closet and Rachel couldn't stop herself from crying out any longer._

_Seconds later the door to her hiding place was ripped open and the hulking form of Dustin Goolsby stood in the frame, a triumphant smile plastered across his face._

_He'd found his prize._

_"I told you I'd be back for you, Rach," he said, his tone shifting to one of eerie tenderness._

_He looked different than the last time she'd laid eyes on him. The past couple of months had obviously not been good to him, if the disheveled state of his appearance was anything to go by. The man she remembered had taken great pride in his clothes and hair; seeing him so unkempt only added to the horror snowballing inside of her.  
><em>

_"N-no," she gasped out. "You're not s-supposed to be here!"_

_"I know your dads didn't approve of us but you don't have to worry about them anymore, baby. We can be together now without anything standing in our way."_

_"What did you do?" she demanded, her tears coming on even more heavily now. "What did you do to my dads?"_

_"Only what I had to…" Dustin replied and stepped aside._

_Rachel's daddy lay on the floor behind him, lifeless and pale, with blood seeping from multiple gashes in his chest._

_An earth-shattering scream ripped through the air and for the first time since he'd found her, Dustin appeared distressed._

_"Now don't be that way, baby. They made me do this."_

_"You're insane! I've never loved you! I **hate** you!" Rachel cried hysterically._

_A dark shadow passed over Dustin's face, his dark, sunken eyes turning steely and merciless._

_"You're just upset. I understand. You'll have plenty of time to get over it on the drive to our new home," he said in a low growl. "You're going to love it there."_

_Rachel rocked back and forth, shaking her head in denial. He reached down to try and pull her to her feet and her survival instincts kicked in with full force. She scratched, bit and slapped every part of his body that she could reach._

_Unfortunately he was a fully-grown man and she was a teenage girl, a small one at that, and not even adrenaline gave her a chance of overpowering him._

_"We were made for each other, Rachel. You'll see," he murmured in her ear._

_And then everything went black._

* * *

><p>Dr. Fairchild's office was always cold. Slumped on the long leather couch reserved for patients, Rachel tightened her arms further around herself, fingers clutching at the coarse brown wool of the over-sized sweater she was wearing.<p>

"You've come a long way in the past few months, Rachel," her doctor was saying. "I think you're ready to get out into the real world again and starting living your life. A smart, talented girl like you shouldn't be cooped up in here."

Rachel's head snapped up, her brown eyes wide and frightened.

"Leave?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The thought terrified her. At least in a big facility like The Lennox Center, she felt a modicum of safety. There were orderlies and security guards standing between her and the outside world. The only way Dustin could get to her in there was in her recurring nightmares, which had thankfully been getting fewer and further between.

She knew he was locked up in a maximum-security prison for the criminally insane, serving a life sentence for the murder of her parents, but she had countless dreams about him breaking out of that place and finding her again. She spent a great deal of time glancing over her shoulder, waiting for him to return and finish what he started.

The idea of simply going back out into the world and trying to carry on like a normal person was completely foreign to her. She was aware that she supposed to be working towards that goal - hence the intensive therapy she was receiving at Lennox Center - and yet a part of her hadn't entertained the possibility of it happening so soon.

How was she going to eat breakfast and go to school and just _live_ like any other teenager? Every moment of her life was tainted by fear, no matter how hard she worked to bury it.

"Yes," Dr. Fairchild replied patiently. "I'm happy with your progress and of course, you'll still come to see me twice a week for the next few months, but I think you're ready. Only time can heal the wounds you have, sweetheart."

Rachel sighed, turning her attention to the sunny day just beyond the big window behind Dr. Fairchild's desk. She hadn't been outside in a very long time. It would be nice to sleep in a real room, one without standard issue hospital bedding, and eat food that didn't come from a cafeteria.

Maybe it was the first step in feeling like a human being again.

"Okay," she said after a moment.

Her doctor looked genuinely pleased with her response.

"You're a strong young woman, Rachel. I think you're going to be just fine."

Rachel managed a faint smile, hoping against all hope that the older woman was right.

* * *

><p>"Dude… what are you doing?"<p>

Finn Hudson had been restocking the giant shelf of hand soaps in Sheets and Things when he noticed his best friend poking around in the sheet section, picking up sheet sets in varying shades of pink with his nose wrinkled distastefully.

Noah Puckerman, known more often than not as just Puck, also worked at Sheets and Things but it was his day off and Finn knew that no teenage boy came to a home decorating store of his own free will without a damn good reason.

Puck jumped slightly when he heard his friend's voice, dropping the package of sheets in his hand as if it had burned him.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm shopping for sheets," he replied testily.

"Yeah, the pink ones with the flowers will go great with your Playboy posters," Finn said.

Puck shoved his shoulder and then returned to sifting through the bin in front of him.

"They're not for me, asshole. They're for my cousin. Apparently she's coming to live with us."

"Seriously? Which cousin is that?" Finn asked, his interested piqued at this new development.

"Rachel Berry. I think you met her at that huge barbecue we had a couple summers ago," Puck said.

He finally settled on a set of striped sheets in pinks and purples. With a shrug he tucked them under his arm and turned fully towards Finn.

"Is that the really short one who chewed my ear off for like half an hour because I tried to cheat at lawn darts?"

"That would be the one."

Finn could remember Rachel Berry with strange clarity, considering he could barely recall what he had for breakfast. Then again, her affinity for clothes with woodland creatures on them and her knack for talking everyone's ears off made her sort of hard to forget.

"Well, that should be fun," he said with a little chuckle.

To his surprise, Puck's facial expression turned deadly serious.

"I doubt it, man. She's not the same as she was back then…"

Finn's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"She's been through a lot. I don't know all the details, 'cause my mom seems to think I'm still eight or something, but she watched her dads get killed by one of her teachers and then he kidnapped her and kept her holed up in this creepy house for like two days before she got away. It's some heavy shit, man," Puck told him, exhaling loudly.

"Jesus…" Finn said, unable to come up with a better response. There really were some sick-ass people in the world.

"I know. You can't tell anyone that though. My mom told me not to say anything because she wants Rachel to be able to start with a 'clean slate', like someone ever really forgets shit like that."

"Yeah, man," Finn agreed easily. "Anything I can do."

"Thanks, dude. I guess you'll meet her again on Monday at school. Ma will probably make me take her with me everywhere, at least until she gets settled in and stuff," Puck said, not looking as annoyed with the prospect of having a new best friend as he normally would have. "I've gotta get these sheets home pronto though, 'cause she'll be here in like an hour."

After a fist bump, Puck took off in the direction of the checkout line, leaving Finn to his thoughts.

He visibly shuttered when he imagined Rachel Berry going through all that. She was stubborn and strong-willed sure, but she was so tiny… He really didn't want to think about some psycho carting her around like a doll; a piece in some sick game he played in his head. He thought that kind of thing only happened in horror movies.

"That is messed up," he said to himself, returning once more to the wall of hand soaps.


	2. THINGS I THOUGHT I PUT BEHIND ME

**AN: Holy crap, I wrote something. What a trip, huh? I told you all that my muse is a little bitch and I meant it. So sorry for the wait! On another note, I apologize in advance for the emo tone that this story has taken on. It's understandable given the circumstances, I think, but hopefully it doesn't come off as too over the top. I also apologize for the lack of Finn in this chapter but trust me, there is plenty of him to come. **

* * *

><p>Out of all her relatives, Rachel knew Sarah Puckerman and her two children the best. They lived in the next town over, a rural community called Lima, and every few months, they'd all get together, have a meal and share what was going on in their lives. Sarah was her Daddy's sister and the only member of his family that still cared to speak to him. The others hadn't been quite as understanding of his decision to share his life with another man.<p>

Rachel liked her Aunt Sarah. She liked her little cousin Hannah, who was only eight; and she even liked her cousin Noah, who happily took every possible opportunity to be vulgar and obnoxious. In spite of his crude behavior, she knew that he was fiercely loyal to his family and friends, and she was happy to be counted among those he stuck up for.

No matter how well she liked them however, Rachel knew living with them was going to be strange. The change was going to be hard regardless of who she moved in with, because nobody would ever replace the feeling of coming home to her dads at the end of the day.

She didn't think she'd ever feel truly _at home_ again.

Never the less, she understood that her Aunt was making a huge sacrifice by taking her in and she was determined to be grateful and make the best of it. Rachel repeated this mantra in her head as the social worker she'd been assigned to pulled up in front of a slightly run-down apartment building.

Since her fathers' death and her awful experience with Dustin Goolsby, Rachel had become accustomed to feeling anxious. It was something she struggled with from moment-to-moment, and she had almost gotten used to being constantly on edge. Dr. Fairchild had prescribed medication that helped numb those feelings a bit, but they were still constantly pulling at her like a weight strapped to her ankles.

The sort of anxiety she felt as she stared out the car window was different. It came with the realization that life was continuing on around her and now she was expected to leave the safe little bubble she'd been existing in and participate. She wasn't positive she knew how to do that anymore.

As soon as the older model sedan rolled to a stop, Rachel saw her Aunt Sarah fly through the glass doors at the front of the building towards them. It was obvious she had been eagerly anticipating their arrival. A wide smile was plastered across her face but the stiffness of her body betrayed her nervousness. Rachel could see it, even from fifteen feet away.

It took her a moment to work up the courage to step out of the car. By that time, Michelle, her social worker, was already lugging her two suitcases out of the trunk and exchanging greetings with Sarah. Rachel joined them at the rear of the vehicle, her toes hanging just off the edge of the curb and her head down.

"Rachel," Sarah exclaimed. "It's so good to see you, honey!"

Rachel tried to smile up at her aunt, but it came out far less genuine than she would have liked. Sarah didn't seem to notice, swooping her niece up in a tight hug.

"Thank you for taking me into your home, Aunt Sarah," Rachel said, her voice barely above a whisper as she used the manners her fathers had ingrained into her mind.

"Of course! I wouldn't have you anywhere else. Go on in and Noah will help you get settled. I just need to chat with Michelle for a minute."

Rachel did as she was instructed, picking up her two pink suitcases and starting off towards the apartment building.

In her other life, Rachel Berry probably would have brought a mountain of luggage with her, insisting that she needed to be prepared for any disaster. She had been dead set on having things _just so_.

The reincarnation of herself didn't care about hair product or having the perfect blouse. The new Rachel just wanted to spend the next ten years of her life sleeping.

* * *

><p>It was no secret that the Puckermans didn't have a lot of money. Sarah was a single mother, supporting two children on the meagre salary she made working as a receptionist in a dentist's office, with Puck pitching in as much as he could. Their apartment was about a quarter of the size of Rachel's childhood home, with three bedrooms (one of which was actually meant to be a storage space), one bathroom and a large room that acted as the kitchen, living room and dining room. It was small and much different than Rachel was used to, but it was cozy and obviously well maintained.<p>

Once her bags had been deposited in her new room, which she discovered she would be sharing with Hannah, the four of them had sat down for what Sarah had dubbed 'a nice family dinner'.

It was awkward from the moment they began eating. They were treating her like she would self-destruct at any moment, as if she were teetering on the edge of a high cliff and getting ready to jump. Rachel felt far from her old self – she wasn't sure if she'd ever feel like the old, self-assured Rachel Berry – but she also hated how her family was walking on eggshells around her. They obviously didn't want to push her, she knew, but honestly, Puck being so civil was making her more anxious. She hadn't thought he was capable of chivalry.

Instead of telling them their behavior was unnecessary however, Rachel remained silent in her chair as Puck and Sarah made forced small talk, eyes intently fixed on the mostly untouched meal in front of her.

"Momma," her younger cousin piped up suddenly. "What's wrong with Cousin Rachel?"

Sarah's face flushed and she spent a flustered moment stammering.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" she finally asked, choosing the easier route – denial.

Rachel was very familiar with that route herself.

"She's all… quiet. And why does she have to come live with us? Her house is awesome," Hannah questioned innocently.

At eight years old, Hannah had only a rudimentary understanding of what had happened to her uncles. She knew they were dead, having attending their funeral, but that was about the extent of her knowledge. How they had died remained a mystery to her.

"Well, since your Uncle Hiram and Uncle Leroy are… no longer with us," Sarah replied, glancing nervously at her while she tried to pretend the reference to her dads didn't cause her stomach to twist painfully. "Rachel needs our support. Don't you think sharing a room with Cousin Rachel will be fun? You guys can get to know each other so much better and become the best of friends!"

"Yeah, I guess..." Hannah hesitantly responded.

Her aunt was trying her best to put a positive spin on the whole situation, but no one in the room seemed to be buying it. Out of her periphery, Rachel could see Puck shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Hannah still seemed to be wrapping her brain around the change in her living situation as she poked at the rice on her plate with a fork, her tiny brow furrowed slightly.

Unable to bear the awkwardness she had brought upon her own family, Rachel pushed her chair abruptly back from the table, the scrape of its legs almost deafening as it broke through the silence.

"Um… may I be excused, Aunt Sarah?" she whispered.

"Are you sure? You barely ate anything, sweetheart."

The worry etched deep into her face made a wave of guilt rise up inside Rachel. It was a lot to handle on top of her relocation and the anxiety that never seemed to grant her a moment's peace.

"I, uh, I'm not very hungry. And I'm kind of tired," she said, not being entirely untruthful. She simply left out the part where she felt awful about bringing her issues into their home.

Sarah chewed her lip and briefly studied her niece, looking for, Rachel assumed, a sign that she was not going to completely loose it when left to her own devices.

"Alright. Just let me know if you need anything," she urged before taking a poignant pause and then continuing in a soft, sad tone. "We're all here for you, Rachel. Whatever you need."

All Rachel could do was smile tightly at her, overwhelmed as she was by life in general. She could almost hear her fathers in her head, reprimanding her for such poor manners, as they often had when she was a child and had gotten a little over zealous or bossy. The memory made her desire to curl up in a ball and sleep more pressing.

"Thank you… for everything," she managed.

Eyes on the worn hardwood floor, Rachel fled towards the room she now shared with Hannah.

It was a typical set up for an 8-year old girl - walls painted pink, flowery bedding and Barbies and various stuffed animals littering the beige carpet. Two twin beds were squeezed into the small space, leaving just enough room for a plain white, somewhat beaten up dresser. In lieu of a closet, there was a metal rack in one corner of the room to hang clothes on, half of which appeared to have been emptied for Rachel to use.

Rachel noticed, gratefully, that her bed had been made up with brand new sheets and she immediately sank down onto it, staring up at the ceiling.

She had never shared a room with anyone before, having been an only child that was spoiled rotten to boot. How little it bothered her came as a complete surprise. What was the point in getting upset over something as trivial as a room? She was actually kind of glad she wouldn't have to be alone at night.

After a few minutes of trying to power down her racing mind, Rachel finally fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

><p><em>She could distinctly remember the sickening smell of his cologne as he towered over her, his breath hot on her face. He had always worn too much. It seemed to coat her throat and nose, smothering her. <em>

_Her head was spinning, too muddled to make sense of her surroundings. She tried to open her eyes, absolutely terrified of what would meet her when she did. Why was she so afraid? She was too dizzy to remember._

_Why was her head pounding? _

_Her eyes grudgingly opened, eyelids almost unbearably heavy. __His face was mere inches from hers, expression set in an unsettling mixture of affection and impatience. The corner of his mouth was twitching, hinting at the destructive storm that seemed to be constantly raging just below the surface._

_It all came rushing back to her. Coming home, finding her dad and hearing her Dustin and her daddy…_

_Rachel couldn't control it; she screamed - a long, impossibly loud and anguished sound. _

_One hand closed over her mouth to stifle the noise. His other hand smoothed her bangs back from her face._

"_Welcome home, Rachel."_

* * *

><p>Rachel jerked awake, her eyes snapping open as she quickly sat up in bed. It took her a beat to realize that she was in her cousin's room, safe and sound. The only sound in the room, other than the creaking of old pipes in the walls, was her own heavy breathing.<p>

Glancing over to the other bed, Rachel could just make out the shape of Hannah snuggled up in her blanket, sleeping soundly.

Rachel couldn't help but feel a little envious.

For the first month she had been at the Lennox Center, Rachel had woken up every single night screaming bloody murder, plagued with nightmares about Dustin Goolsby. It got so she dreaded the sight of her bed and she would do everything in her power to avoid sleeping. Over time, the nightmares didn't wane, but she grew accustomed to them. Waking up in the middle of the night became something of a routine.

As she felt around the side of the mattress for her purse, Rachel rubbed her eyes and flung her legs over the side of the bed. She located it with relative ease and tip-toed toward the door, bag in hand. The door let out a fairly loud creak of protest as she eased it open, but Hannah remained blissful unaware of the world around her and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when she was safely in the hallway.

She made her way towards the bathroom, which was conveniently located on the opposite end of the hall, but came to a halt when she heard the hushed voices of Sarah and Puck in the living room.

"She's really freaking me out, Mom," Puck was saying. "I don't even recognize her anymore."

Sarah let out a long breath and said, "I know, Noah, but that poor girl has been to hell and back. What did you expect?"

"It's just hard to relate the Rachel Berry I know to the person she is now. It's like she's not even a person anymore, just an empty shell. Her eyes are all… blank and weird."

"Just give her some time," Sarah replied, her tone soothing. "That's all we can do for her until she asks for more."

Rachel didn't want to listen any more. It hurt to hear the truth about how she really seemed to others. These were the people whose opinions mattered to her most and apparently she wasn't doing a very good job of putting their uneasy minds to rest.

It also hurt, _so badly_, to be privy to a conversation taking place between a child and parent. She'd never get to have a conversation like that again; the sudden realization tugged violently at her heart.

Before she could draw attention to herself, Rachel slipped into the bathroom and shut the door slowly and soundlessly, flicking the lock into place. She rooted through her purse and found the anti-anxiety medication that Dr. Fairchild had prescribed to her for moments such as that one, when she felt that everything was simply becoming _too much_. Eagerly fishing out two of the pills, Rachel tipped her head back and swallowed them, using some water from the sink to wash them down.

When she straightened up from where she had leaned over the sink to reach the faucet, Rachel caught sight of her reflection in the small mirror on the wall in front of her.

Noah was right. She looked completely different. Her brown eyes, once teeming with energy and enthusiasm, were dull and hollow. Her long hair fell limply around her gaunt face where she had left it after stepping out of the shower that morning.

"This is the new Rachel Berry", she told her reflection in a bleak murmur.

And everyone - including her - was just going to have to get used to it.


End file.
